


Directions Home

by rivlee



Series: Gone Are All The Days [15]
Category: Band of Brothers, HBO War, The Pacific - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddie Jones arrives in St. Boniface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Babe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amorekay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/gifts).



> This fic will have four chapters each told from different perspectives. The line-up goes as follows: 1) Babe 2) Andy 3) Eddie and 4) Gene Roe

**_September 2007_ **

Babe Heffron hated being late for work, even if no one really cared in St. Boniface. Fifteen minutes wasn’t late for people who took their time and let life crawl at its own pace, but Babe still had Philly standards even after a year of Louisiana living. He supposed he could blame some twisted sort of catholic guilt on it all, the fear of being late and letting people down, and because the last time he lingered bad shit happened and his hands were covered in blood.

Babe pulled over and took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time. He had shit to do and December was still months away. He pressed his head to the steering wheel for a moment and started repeating lines of Billy Joel’s _We Didn’t Start the Fire_ ; he found it more comforting than a _Hail Mary_ these days. Halfway through the 1960s he was ready to drive again. He cursed at himself as he drove down the worn two-lane road to _Fitzwilliam’s_. He was almost a half-hour late now.

It was all Lewis Nixon’s fault. That asshole with his money and his job offers and his rambling phone conversations had ruined Babe’s morning. For some reason, Nixon had got it in his skull that Babe need to be the silent project lead for Nixon Development’s Louisiana field office. Nixon didn’t care that Babe was fully committed to _Fitzwilliam’s_ and had promised himself that after Julian he’d stick to the more legal side of employment; he told Babe it would all fit into his current work schedule. Babe had lived too long in this world and parts of its underbelly to take anything at face value. Sure, Nixon’s jobs were technically all top-shelf stuff with official government contracts, but Babe knew enough people who signed their lives away with those exact same contracts. He wasn’t giving up his soul for a few extra bucks; at least not without some serious consultations and negotiations.

He couldn’t deny that paid vacations, a damn good health plan, and more money in general weren’t extremely tempting. He’d held down two jobs before, so he _could_ pull it off again. His grandfather’s voice rung in his mind though, reminding him that there was no such thing as a free lunch. He needed to talk to Gene first, then Bill and the whole family; he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t get their input. He knew Nixon wasn’t exactly Satan. Babe figured if Carwood Lipton willingly worked with the man on a regular basis, Nixon couldn’t be _too_ bad. 

Of course, Lipton also loved Ron Speirs, so what the hell did he really know?

There was an unfamiliar car parked outside _Fitzwilliam’s_ when he arrived. Babe knew their locals, and most everyone here was the truck, SUV, or crossover type. A red ’76 Chevy Impala was not the norm, especially when it came with Maryland license plates. Babe hopped out of his truck and looked around the area. No one unfamiliar was out on the streets, so the stranger was probably in the bar. He spied a guitar case in the back seat and frowned as he ran through the possibilities. They didn’t get many tourists in this part of the parish. He really hoped someone hadn’t _already_ arrived to give him hell for being Nixon’s proposed local point-man; that would really fucking suck. Babe had plans for this weekend that a broken jaw would ruin.

He slipped into the back entrance and saw Jordan at the kitchen’s slicer. He made sure to make enough noise not to startle her as he hit the time clock. Starting the day off with a kitchen disaster would also ruin his plans for the weekend and Jordan had a mean revenge streak. 

“So, do we actually have a customer out there or are you just hungry?” he asked.

Jordan smiled up at him, somehow glamorous even in a hairnet and white apron. “Nice guy at the bar. He’s a musician traveling on the road. His car broke down near the town’s turn, and after getting it fixed and talking to me, he decided to spend the night.”

They didn’t exactly have a five-star hotel here and no outsiders looked for a reason to linger. “And did you offer him accommodation?” he asked.

Jordan narrowed her eyes before pointedly going back to the slicer. “Edward Heffron, I would never offer such a thing until _after_ the man’s had some food in his stomach.” She sighed and pouted at him. “I think I’m gonna have to admit defeat on this one. He didn’t have eyes for me when he came in at all. He was polite, don’t get me wrong, perfectly respectable man, but he was more interested in the baseball scores than anything I had to say.” 

“We’ll just have to entice some more new blood down here so you can drag them to your lair,” he said.

“It would be much appreciated. I’m getting tired of going out to Lafayette to meet a man I haven’t known since I was in diapers.” She gave him a sly look. “You have brothers, right?”

“No,” Babe said as he looked through the kitchen door window at the guy. “The only free one is my baby brother, and he’s far too innocent for you. You’ll destroy him.”

“But will he blush as pretty red as you do whenever Gene Roe stops by for a surprise lunch? It’s just precious the way you go all strawberry.”

Babe said nothing as he tied on his apron and checked the progress of the battered pickles in the deep fryer. They had at least another hour until their official kitchen staff arrived. Babe and Jordan could do the basics, but if anyone wanted a true po’ boy they knew to wait until the true master chefs arrived. As it was Babe and Jordan both knew enough to not destroy the kitchen.

Jordan finished plating the sandwich and nudged the basket at him. “Cover for me, cher? It’s time for my break.”

“Gotcha,” Babe said. He filled another small basket with the pickles, adding in a cup of ranch dressing, and put on his best professional smile.

“Lunch is served,” he announced as he deposited the meal in front of the stranger.

“Well hell, I’m going to need a gallon of water and a ten mile run to offset this meal,” the man said. He took a bite of one of the deep-fried pickles and smiled. “Worth it.”

Babe tried to place the accent; a bit of a drawl, but nothing that hinted at Gulf Coast and nowhere close to Deep South. The man had a head full of light-brown hair, loose curls that swept down his forehead. He had at least two days-worth of a beard growing in around his mouth, and looked world weary around his eyes. His clothes were old, comfortable, but clean, and he didn’t look like he’d missed too many meals even though he was slim. Babe didn’t think it was in the hit man guidebook to order a meal before taking out a mark; at least he hoped not.

“That your ride out front?” he asked.

“That’s right,” the man said, turning away from the tv. He wiped his hand on one of the paper napkins and held it out. “Eddie Jones. Nice to meet you.”

“Babe Heffron,” he said. 

“Babe?” Eddie asked after they ended their handshake. “That’s quite a nickname.”

“Still my name and I wear it proudly.”

Eddie smiled. “Hell, my nickname’s Hillbilly so I ain’t judging. Just wondering how you got it is all. I’m guessing it must’ve had something to do with your mama. Guessing that’d be the only reason to hold onto such a name for life.”

“You’re not wrong,” Babe agreed. 

He started to sort out the coasters as he racked his brain for small talk topics. Bullshitting usually came naturally to him. Fucking Nixon leaving him fucked up. He put together the facts he knew: a fresh job offer from Nixon, a random stranger in his bar with Maryland license plates and no apparent reason for passing through, and Babe saw the bottom of a Globe-and-Anchor tattoo just under the cuff of Eddie’s t-shirt. He knew just how many ex-military men turned their skills into personal profit. He’d dated one of those assholes what felt like a lifetime ago. Babe really didn’t want to get shot today. Gene and Spina would yell him into his grave while Shelton laughed at him. Even Renée would probably frown at him as she stitched him up. 

“You a Marine?” he asked with a nod toward the tattoo and tried to feel Eddie out.

Eddie looked down at his arm and nodded. “No longer active, yeah.”

“Where’d you serve? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

Eddie shrugged. “You could find it on my resume, so ain’t a bother to me. Iraq was my last tour. Afghanistan before that, and teaching and training along with some other duties I’m sure the government hasn’t declassified yet.”

“Training, eh? Parris Island or Oceanside?”

“Both,” Eddie said. “Also taught at Camp Lejeune for a bit. You a Marine?”

“Me?” Babe laughed. “Hell no. I still have some serious problems with authority. I just know a lot of ex-military. Army Rangers, SEALs, Air Force, you name a branch, I’ve served a drink to them. One of my roommates is a Marine, actually. Don’t suppose you know a Merriell Shelton, do ya?”

Eddie looked like Babe had just decked him. “Snafu? Snafu Shelton. _You_ know Snafu?” Eddie gave him a long, hard look. “Christ, he has a type.””

Babe felt part of his immortal soul break at the very _thought_ of hitching his proverbial wagon to Merriell Shelton. “There is not enough money or booze in the world,” he said. He shuddered and grabbed the soda gun to fill a glass of water to clear his own throat. “Jesus Christ, hell no,” he said after he downed half of it.

“You have a problem with two men shacking up together?” Eddie asked. His tone was still friendly, but his eyes spoke of something else entirely.

Babe almost choked on his water. Instead he carefully placed his cup to the side and pulled out his wallet. Inside was the photograph Spina snapped on his and Gene’s first total not-date. He carefully pulled it out of its slot, smiled at the worn edges, and handed it to Eddie. 

“His name’s Gene. He’s a doctor at the local free clinic—only free clinic in three parishes,” Babe said with pride. “He and Shelton go way back. Grew up together and all that shit.”

Eddie smiled at the photo and handed it back. “Gene, you said? Short for Eugene?”

“Yeah.”

“Not the only one Snaf knows. I was right then; he’s got a type.” 

Babe had to make a few calls to the rest of the housemates before he extended the invitation, but he was pretty sure Eddie Jones wasn’t staying at a hotel tonight. There was some obvious dirt to uncover.

“I’m going to assume you know Burgin too,” Babe said.

Eddie’s smile went soft. “Burgie? I was on my way to see him when that car got full of road dust. Knew I should’ve brought my truck. He was one of my best boys, Burgie. We used to use him, Snaf, and Jay to break in our new boots. I was their Gunny—Gunnery Sergeant, that is. Lifetime ago it seems. I got out while they were still in, though I tried to keep up. Easier to do these days than when I first signed-up.”

“No more pigeon carriers then?”

Eddie laughed into his plate. “I know a guy who keeps a whole pigeon coop. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d trained them for that.”

Babe stopped wiping down the bar. “Seriously?” he asked.

Eddie nodded. “He’s an odd one; hell of a good guy though.” He pushed around a bit of his food. “So I was told there’s a hotel around here. It’s still standing, right? Open for guests?”

“Should be,” Babe said. “How long you planning on sticking around?”

“Don’t really have a set plan,” Eddie said. “I had years of order. I’ve just taken to wandering these past few years.”

“Running away or running towards something?”

“A little bit of both,” Eddie admitted. “I didn’t even have a set time to meet Burgie, just felt like passing on through Texas. I’m never short of gigs there.”

“So you don’t just play for a hobby,” Babe said.

Eddie’s smile went from open to a soft, sad thing. “Never was a hobby so much as a part of getting by. I can strum pretty well and have a talent for writing sad love songs. Luckily there’s always a place for that among the country crowd.”

“So I’ve started to learn,” Babe said. 

He never knew much about country music except Garth Brooks, Dolly Parton, Johnny Cash, and Willie Nelson until his new co-workers had delighted in expanding his musical horizons. He still hadn’t quite been able to live down Shelton catching him singing along to Rascal Flatts, and it was hard to get revenge on a man who had no shame about knowing every Shania Twain song ever released. 

“You want to be the next big country star?” Babe asked.

Eddie shook his head. “I’ve written for some of those folks, and that was all the taste I needed to tell me it wasn’t my kind of place. I just like to play and see the road. You’d be amazed at some of the things tucked away in parts of this country that most of the world’s forgotten.”

“Like St. Boniface,” Babe said.

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Jordan smiled at them as she slipped back into the bar. She lightly hip checked Babe out of the way. “Terry’s fixing to show up with the liquor order. Go help him, yeah? I’ll stay here and be hospitable like.”

Babe flicked his towel at her as he slid past. “Only because I have to make a call.” He tilted his head to Eddie. “Don’t leave yet, bro. I’ve got to call to make, but I’m pretty sure you won’t have to crash at a hotel tonight. We’ve always got a few empty rooms.”

“Thanks,” Eddie said. “I really appreciate that. Be real good to see Snaf again.”

Babe knew it would probably be good for Shelton too, to have someone other than Burgie close to talk about what they’d been through over there. He pulled out his phone as he walked out to the back. He squinted into the sun as he called Gene and waited for the line to connect. He felt his whole body calm as Gene greeted him with a drawled out _Edward_.

“Gene, I just ran into an old buddy of Shelton’s. We got a bed to spare, right?”


	2. Andy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Andy Haldane ended up in Louisana

Andy Haldane’s life had many turning points in his thirty-three years. It wasn’t just the decisions like he signed up for the Corps, when he survived Officer Training School, and when he decided to leave it all behind. It wasn’t even the little things like the planes he didn’t get on or the roads he didn’t take. Sometimes it was just the end of a partnership and relationship that had once made everything else so much easier to face.

It ended on a Tuesday morning in early May, bright, sunny, and seemingly innocuous. Andy would be a liar if he said he didn’t see it coming, didn’t see the hard lines of frustration grown deeper in Eddie’s freckled skin, the happiness start to dim in his eyes, and disillusionment take the place of what was once clear hope. The lives they’d lived, years spent in war zones, only held some of the blame; the policy that forbid people like them to both openly love each other and openly serve their country was another; Andy knew the rest of it was on him, 

Andy couldn’t help but blame himself as the years passed. If he had been a stronger person, he’d have spent the last four years building a life with the man he still loved instead of tracking his movements through Facebook posts and old friends and colleagues. He felt like a fucking coward each time he failed to make contact.

He could’ve at least called him once he got out. Of course, Eddie could’ve just as easily called him. Andy refused to think about the reasons why he hadn’t; he liked denial sometimes. 

Andy left the Marine Corps a year after Eddie retired; a year after Eddie left him to boot so Andy could get that career advancement he’d talked about. Eddie always was the more stubborn of the two of them, more willing to make the hard decisions. Andy would never leave Eddie and he knew that, so Eddie left him. He made the choice Andy couldn’t—wouldn’t— make, and Andy had found little contentment in his life ever since. 

His first year out of the Corps—two years without Eddie— he spent in the backwoods of Maine. Isolated and alone, save for a few family members and neighbors. He was able to decompress in a way no Corps Approved Program ever could. He lived out of a trailer while he built his cabin. Two rooms, nothing fancy, and he had the help of quite a few locals to finish it. It still felt like an accomplishment; he had created something instead of destroying a field or town or village based on orders. His hands got worn, torn, and full of splinters. He _felt_ again. 

He called up Burgie when it was done. Burgie who would quote Walden at him down the line until he gave in and agreed to fly to Texas, take in some of the Gulf air, and join civilization again. He invited Elmo Haney, his former mentor, up to spend a few weekends. They had camped out on the land, shot the shit, and got into bickering fights about whether or not Andy should move to D.C. and join Naval Criminal Investigative Services. As much as Andy loved and respected the old Gunny, he couldn’t see himself carrying a weapon again and told him as much. Elmo then told him to stop being such a stubborn jackass and go find Eddie. 

He went down to Boston instead. He spent a week in the spring wandering the city, stopping at the war memorials in Charlestown, Cambridge, Mount Auburn, Boston Common, the Esplanade, and every other corner of the city. He walked up Bunker Hill and wondered about the men and women who came before him in all the wars, how those who survived managed to slot back into civilian life when there was still a war on both in reality and in their heads. 

Andy had gotten even better at not sleeping since he left the desert. He got better at not talking about his problems too, and a shrink his father suggested helped work some of the shit out, but it didn’t really fix him. Honestly, he hadn’t really expected it to. Some things never, ever left you. Some things shouldn’t. 

It was a talk with Gene Sledge that got Andy’s ass out of Maine. Sledge was still a young man lost; no longer the wide-eyed innocent he’d been back in Oceanside. He still didn’t know what to do with his life and looked to Andy for answers. Andy told him to do something that gave him peace. He felt like an ass for saying it since he couldn’t find his own. Sledge found nature, and birds, joined the fight for conservation, and decided to plan on some higher education. He still hadn’t pursued it yet, but Sledge would find his way. Andy had faith in that kid, stronger than anyone would believe, including his own self.

Andy had finished his Master’s in between tours, even though he never expected to do much with it. He was certified to teach in California, Massachusetts, Maine, and out of some small spark of hope, Maryland and Pennsylvania. He hadn’t done anything with them and had no real reason to uproot from the Northeast. He needed something. There was only so much of his savings left, and he didn’t see his future working at his father’s company. His future wasn’t in Lowell, Boston, or even the backwoods of Maine. It was his father who suggested Teach for America after three years of little change and four years without Eddie.

“You can still serve, Andy,” he said. “Only this time you take these kids and you shape them to survive in a different world. They need teachers like you.”

According to their website they wanted people with leadership experience. Andy had laughed so hard he started crying. He contacted one of the regional heads and asked about the positions in Texas and Louisiana where they were needed the most. They explained their process, what was required of their new hires, and Andy was too late to work for them at the start of the next year, but applications opened in August. There was no talk about permanency, and that didn’t feel right. It sounded like a sort of disruption these places didn’t need. If Andy was going to do this, he wanted a commitment.

After years of feeling the brunt of shit rolling down hill, Andy decided it was time to cut out the middle micro-managers. He contacted all three of the school districts the recruiter told him about. St. Martin Parish, Louisiana, was the first to call him back.

Some local intel was needed. It was time to finally call Snafu.

*********

St. Cecilia was one of the handful of actual cities in St. Martin Parish. Andy personally thought of it as a town, but they had their own city high school and enough households to maintain a decent economy. Hurricane Katrina caused a population swell that meant a new high school was planned for the city, but as of now, St. Cecilia Central High was in desperate need of English and Social Studies teachers.

“We got all the Math and Science teachers we can handle, imagine that,” Principal Jerome Bissette told him over two cups of the sugar torture called sweet tea. “We got Music covered too; never a lack of that around these parts.” He flipped through Andy’s resume. “Don’t got much teaching experience outside of military specialty schools here, Mr. Haldane.”

Andy wasn’t used to failure in terms of his professional life and he felt it start to settle in the pit of his stomach.

“I figure though, that a man who can survive and lead through multiple tours of war should be a quick learner about handling our kids. You’re not just here for a sense of charitable good, I take it?”

“Life needs a change,” Andy admitted. “Small towns don’t bother me.” He smiled as he thought of Snafu’s crooked smirk and slow drawl. “I’ve had to handle a contrary Cajun among my boys. He became my endurance test for newcomers to our company.”

“Sounds like my Emma,” Principal Bissette said. “Now let’s talk about your lesson plans and how you’re going to dig up some Yankee charm for the school board. We’ll need to sell you up a little, though already having your advanced degree helps.”

“I’m also decent enough at football to help the coach or assistant coach if that helps,” he said. He didn’t see the need for putting _Former All-American Quarterback_ on his resume, but he’d use anything to get the job now that he was here. 

“It just might.”

The relief felt as sweet as the breeze crawling in through Principal Bissette’s window.

**********

Sometimes Andy swore he had a whole classroom full of Snafu Sheltons; mouthy kids with untapped potential who were already used to the world beating them down and writing them off. They were good kids who were kind enough to listen to his stories without too much eye rolling and a quiet sense of tentative respect; they also had no bullshit attitudes. He kind of adored the rowdy bunch even though it had only been a month.

Andy knew so many people thought history was the most boring subject of them all. Those people were wrong about everything, but Andy had developed a strategic plan to teach to the fucking state approved curriculum for standardized testing along with giving the kids more elaborate stories. Dates didn’t mean shit if you didn’t know the events surrounding him, and when his kids filled in those scantron sheets with their borrowed no. 2s, he wanted them to _know_ why November 11, 1918 was so important. The kids listened intently, even if they all told him he talked funny. It made him feel sort of welcomed here, accepted in a unique way.

He’d also never been more thankful to his mother for all those years of French she made him take. He was rusty as hell, but at least he didn’t sound like a complete asshole as he tried to teach some of his classes their own state history. 

Andy paid for his new home in full with the money he got from selling his Boston condo. It was a simple place, small and lived in, with a shed out back and a new roof. He liked the way the floorboards creaked when he walked on them and the porch out back gave him a gorgeous view of willow trees and a creek. It took him two months to unpack all his boxes. He hadn’t brought much with him, just the basics from Maine and the contents from his old office in Boston. He saved the box with his plaques and awards for the very last. He was never one for awards and achievements, but that night as he drank his beer and the early autumn heat seeped in through the windows, he looked at the symbols of what he’d earned. 

He pulled out the familiar Blue Diamond of the First Marine Division. After all this time, he still couldn’t stop the swell of pride. Andy didn’t start out in the First Marines. Hell, he didn’t even start his career at Camp Pendleton. Then again, neither did Eddie. They met at Camp Lejeune, where Andy was settling into his first job with the Second Marine Division and Eddie was doing a stint as an instructor for the School of Infantry.

God, those days. Andy thought the transition from Maine to Quantico was bad. Camp Lejeune was a whole other world, with water bugs, camel crickets, more mosquitoes than could occupy all nine levels of Hell, and stuffed full of Old Salts with their judging eyes on a freshly minted second lieutenant. 

He’d spotted Eddie on his first day. Captain Marcus had walked them at double-time through the training grounds, pointing out officers and enlisted of note, and then came to a stop at a group of men marching in perfect time as their sergeant belted out _Badlands_.

“And that’s Sergeant Eddie Jones,” Marcus had said. “Everybody calls him Hillbilly.”

Andy remembered that moment, feeling like he was stuck in the Quigley again, trying to get through that damn mud and swamp filled tube. At that exact, precise moment, Andrew Allison Haldane knew he was so very and completely fucked. That feeling never let up when it came to Eddie, even after they had officially met and been paired together. 

There was a time when Andy dreamed of having it all, a long military career and a life with Eddie. It wasn’t meant to be; one left him and he left the other. He still had hope, the one part of him that refused to let go, that he’d see Eddie again, and maybe, just maybe, they could grow old together. He couldn’t picture it with anyone else; didn’t want to either. He had his memories though, and he’d swear sometimes, whenever his hands switched the radio to a country station, that some of those songs being crooned out were just for him. He still held those memories close, of Eddie out on their back stoop in Oceanside, guitar in his lap as he sang to Andy and the stars until he lost the words to Andy’s kisses and wandering hands. They were good memories to have, even when they hurt. 

“I hope you’re well,” Andy murmured to the ghosts in the room as he raised his glass. “I miss you.”

There was a slip of paper, worn and hidden in his wallet, with a number written down in faded ink. Andy never bothered to call it, not wanting to drag Eddie back when he still couldn’t give him what he wanted that first year. Then the time passed and it seemed too late to try again. They never communicated directly, just through all the boys they helped pull through hell together. Andy didn’t know what he was waiting for, if he needed a sign, or a kick to the ass, or Eddie to reach out first. He didn’t want to know if it was already too late. The thought of someone else falling asleep to Eddie humming Johnny Cash turned his stomach, even though Andy knew he no longer had the right.

It was a terrible thing, the thought of the love of your life with someone else. Andy had seen and survived worse, but the pain of this one lingered. He kept that hope though, just in case.

“In the morning,” he murmured to himself. “I’ll try to call in the morning.”


	3. Eddie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Eddie's turn to spin a tale.

The Old Thibodaux Boarding House was like something out of time. It had a wide porch, pieces of wrought iron in painted black ivy snaring around the different levels of the place, wood shutters, and an obvious sense of history. It looked lived in, like all the best places Eddie had ever known. He felt lucky to bed down here, even if no one he really knew was currently at home. Snaf was out somewhere deep in the bayou; had started a week’s worth of shifts to cover a friend’s vacation and only bothered to tell Gene Roe. Babe promised him Eddie was still welcome at their home.

“Gene really wants to meet you,” he said after they’d both parked in the driveway. “He never got the chance every time he was out in California and you’re one of those rare people Shelton not only respects, but _likes_.”

“Trust me, it was something I had to earn,” Eddie said.

“I don’t doubt it,” Babe said. “Hey, give me one of those bags. I can’t have you secretly thinking I’m an asshole as you haul all your shit in here.”

Eddie laughed and handed over his duffle bag. “You got me free room and board, Babe. I’m not going to think you’re an asshole.”

Babe shrugged. “Yeah, you’re still a guest. Come on.”

Snaf’s old friend was waiting for them at the front door. Gene Roe had pale skin almost in defiance of the warm autumn summer that beat down on them, a slight build, and ink dark hair. He didn’t look a thing like Snaf, except for that glint in his eyes as he studied Eddie.

He offered his hand with a tired smile. “Merl-Francis has always spoken highly of you.”

“Likewise,” Eddie said as he shook Gene’s hand. He looked about as weary as Eddie felt, both of them wrinkled messes between Gene’s scrubs and Eddie’s t-shirt and jeans. 

“I got to head back,” Babe said. He carefully put Eddie’s bag down on the floor. “See you tonight,” he said with a quick kiss to Gene’s cheek.

Eddie smiled as he saw the boys instinctively lean into each other. It’d been a long-time since he’d felt that natural pull with someone, but he knew how good and precious it was and could appreciate it in others.

“Be safe,” Gene called to Babe’s retreating back, door already slamming on its hinges as his sneakers hit the boards of the porch. 

Gene shook his head. “Grown-ass man, I swear.”

Eddie grinned. “We’re all kids sometimes.”

“No lie,” Gene agreed. He gestured to the large staircase. “Let me give you the quick tour. First floor is the main living space. Got your kitchen, living room, laundry room, and dining room. That pile of shoes and jackets is always there by the front and back doors, so feel free to add to the mess.” He started up the stairs, not even bothering to look back to make sure Eddie was following him.

“The second floor is where most of the people stay.” He pointed to the right. “Down the end of the hall is Spina’s room. He’s one of Edward’s boys.”

“Edward?” Eddie asked, knowing Gene wasn’t talking about him.

Gene smiled. “ _Babe_ ,” he said. “Everyone calls him that ‘cept me unless I’m trying to get him ruffled up. I’ll call him that while I lead you about so as not to confuse things.”

“He lets you call him Edward,” Eddie said. _He_ didn’t even liked being called by his full name. He’d just gotten used to everyone call him _Eddie_ again instead of Hillbilly or Jones or Gunny.

Gene shrugged. “It’s what I first called him when we met.” He held up a hand before Eddie could ask. “It’s a long story best told with all the boys around, some good food, and some drinks. Maybe tonight after we’ve all had a nap or two. Snaf’s room is also down that way if you’d like to be near him.”

“I almost miss his snoring, but not that much,” Eddie said. He patted the guitar bag on his shoulder. “I usually play late into the night. Might be best if I’m not too near anyone.”

“To the left it is,” Gene said as they turned. He tapped on one door. “Shared bathroom. This one has the tub and is closer to the stairs so it gets used most often. There’s a half-bath down at the very end. Feel free to use it, but I’m going to warn you about the spiders now.”

Eddie almost laughed. “I’ve dealt with worse, doc.”

“I can surely imagine,” Gene said. 

The wallpaper in the hall was more old fashioned than Eddie expected for a house full of young men. The whole house look decorated by the hands of an old soul. There were paintings, framed pictures, and dried flowers pressed between glass hung on the walls. There were crucifixes too, and pictures of a few saints and at least one rosary among the décor lining the walls. Eddie recognized the much younger faces of Snaf and Gene in some of the pictures, skinny arms around each other and snuggled between an older woman and man, both with silver hair and wizened smiles. 

“MawMaw and Paw-Paw Roe,” Gene said as he watched Eddie linger. “My grandmother helped decorate this place before she left the earth. She and Doc Thibodaux were old friends; they had different ways of healing, but always deeply respected each other.”

Gene stopped outside a bedroom. He pushed the door open. “Make yourself at home. Get some rest, okay? Look like you need it.”

Eddie nodded. “Same to you, Doc.”

Gene pointed to the ceiling. “Babe and I are on the third floor. You need anything you just holler. Spina’ll be home by nine. It’s his night to cook. I hope you got some room for meatloaf.”

Eddie grinned. “I look forward to it.”

Gene left him to his lonesome with a small smile. Eddie dropped his bag to the floor and carefully placed his guitar on the bed. There was a patchwork quilt and he smiled as he thought of his momma’s bedroom back home. Warm sunlight trickled in through the one window and there was a faded poster taped to the wall, announcing some music show headlined by Frank Roe. Eddie’s eyes widened at the name. Frank Roe was a legend among the early alt-country crowd.

He turned to the bedroom door where Gene had left him. Gene _Roe_. “Couldn’t be,” he muttered to himself.

He pulled out his old journal and sat on the bed next to his guitar; the position was a familiar one, just him, the silence, the guitar, and his words. It would be time to get a new journal soon. This one was ragged and held together by duct tape and string, but there was life in it yet. It had accompanied him everywhere since he left the Corps. 

He took a deep breath and opened the cover, looked at the photograph taped to the inside, and ran a finger over the worn image of Andy’s smile. All these years later and the memory of it still burned bright in his mind. Eddie flipped to a blank page, wrote the date, and then _St. Boniface_. 

It was time to start a new entry.

**********

Snaf looked good and a hell of a lot closer to whole and healthy than the last time Eddie laid eyes on him. He’d filled out in the face and the body, testament to his fair share of good meals and decent sleep. Snaf always had that toned shape rather than piling on the muscles, and Eddie always saw the need to sneak him some leftovers from his own MREs because it couldn’t have hurt the kid. He remained one of the scrawniest beings Eddie had ever seen, even beating out Sledgehammer who always looked more delicate, yet still had some meat on his bones. Snaf had always been like a stray dog who had found a home; loyal to only a few, willing to bite who ever fucked with him, and doing whatever it took to survive. Eddie had always seen shades of himself in Snaf. Andy had taken Sledgehammer under his wing, but Burgie and Snaf were truly Eddie’s boys for a time.

Snaf wasn’t so much a kid anymore. He had a home here, a job, a best friend, and something like joy on his face as he shook Eddie’s hand.

“So glad to have you in my home, Gunny. Burgie told me he’d hosted you a time or two. Was wondering when you’d get up my way.”

Eddie piled a plate with pancakes and pushed it towards Snaf. It was nearing two in the morning, but he’d just gotten off shift, and Eddie was still riding high off a gig he’d played that night in Lafayette. 

“This wasn’t your last mailing address and your old number was disconnected. Wouldn’t be trying to hide from anyone, would you?”

Snaf rubbed the back of his neck and sucked air between his teeth. “Hand me the butter, Gunny?”

“When have those evasion tactics every worked on me?”

Snaf smirked. “How’s Haldane, again?”

“Shut up and eat your pancakes, you little backwoods viper.”

Snaf toasted their mugs. “Always a pleasure, Hillbilly.”

Eddie had missed _this_ , missed being able to bullshit with someone who understood all the things he didn’t want to talk about and couldn’t forget. He’d been settling into St. Boniface this past week on his own. He finally felt _good_ in his place now.

**********

Eddie hummed to himself as he weeded out the old garden on the side of the house. He’d spent the morning talking to his momma and getting the updates on everyone back home. It was tough keeping up with the comings and goings of his nine siblings, their partners, and their own kids, but everyone called momma at least once a week. There were consequences if they didn’t check in with her; Eddie was the only one to gain an exemption while he was overseas, and even then he’d made sure to contact her whenever he could. The biggest news this week was Allison getting her early acceptance to Berklee College of Music. Eddie was so damn proud of his baby sister, even if memories of a certain condo in Boston stole his breath if he lingered on them too long. Luckily the thick heat of September here in Louisiana pushed away those memories of colder nights wrapped up with Andy on the floor in Boston.

Eddie has been restless after his phone call and he never was one for an idle life. Luckily there was always something to be done around a house this big. Some decent hard labor always calmed him, and there were plenty of odd jobs around the place that needed doing. None of the boys seemed the handyman type; hardly a surprise with the two city boys, Snaf’s general destruction of most things, and Doc having a list of priorities that must’ve kept fixing shit that wasn’t completely broke down at the very bottom. Eddie grew up as a jack-of-all-trades by requirement for his own survival. He was happy to offer services when no one would let him pay rent. 

The garden was a mess of weeds and he’d been eyeing it since his second day here. He needed to get it clear before planting some things to bloom come spring. He could at least _try_ to get these boys to eat some homegrown food.

Eddie wiped the sweat off his brow and stopped when he felt his back tense. He sure as hell wasn’t a kid anymore. He took a long pull of his water and leaned against the boards of the house, resting his eye for just a moment. 

He came back to the world at the sound of tires on gravel. He watched as Gene and Babe hopped out of Gene’s truck, both reaching into the back to pull out bags of groceries. He smiled as Babe tried to trip Gene up and almost fell on his own ass. They both stopped on the porch looking up in surprise at the spinning fans above their heads. 

Gene flipped the front porch light switch on and off, watching as the lights and fans actually worked. He looked at Babe, but Babe just shook his head.

“Shoemaker’s elves or some shit,” Babe said.

“Not quite,” Eddie said as he waved from his spot. He stood up and walked over to them. “I hope you guys don’t mind. I saw that wasn’t working and fixed it. You had some burnt out and crossed wires back there. No surprise in a house this old.”

“You’re an electrician?” Babe asked.

“Certified, yeah. Picked it up as a kid, though it never was my thing. Did some brick laying in North Carolina during those years too; picked up some carpentry skills down there after a summer in the Outer Banks. Worked on some farms in Tennessee and in Kentucky. I’ve done a little bit of everything.”

“And the Marines on top of that,” Gene said. “You surely have moved around a lot.”

“Well, ever since my youngest sibling got herself in middle school, I decided it was time to start living life for myself. Just up and left home one day. I don’t have much in the way of bills but a car loan, a cell phone, and two credit cards. The internet lets you pay all that from wherever you need to these days. I always find some sort of work wherever I go. I figure there will be a sign when I need to stop wandering.”

“We’ve always got space here,” Gene said.

“Anyone who can make pancakes that good is welcome forever,” Babe said. 

Eddie hadn’t really thought about standing still for at least a year now. Maybe it was something in the bayou air, or the fact he could easily get to gigs in Lafayette or Baton Rouge or New Orleans and have a bed he could call his own to drop into at the end of the night. Maybe it was Snaf, knowing Burgie wasn’t too far off, same with Sledge, and it made him remember the days that were the perfect mixture of heaven and hell. He was tempted to stay though, and it was nice to know that he was welcome. 

The itch and urge to keep going wasn’t screaming under his skin and hadn’t been for at least two weeks. Perhaps that was the biggest sign he was going to get; perhaps he didn’t need fate and signs to tell him that this was a good place to make a temporary home.

**********

Eddie decided to make re-painting the back of the house his weekend project. He’s figured it was best to get it done before Christmas so when he climbed up there to hang lights he wouldn’t be annoyed at all the pockets of peeling paint. He didn’t want to over examine the fact that he already planned to be here that long.

“Don’t you know you’re supposed to have a spotter,” Babe called up from the ground.

“You gonna catch me if I fall, Heffron?”

“I’ll at least call Gene to come set your bones back in place when you fall,” Babe said. He held up a couple of beers. “Break time?”

Eddie needed to wait for the paint to dry before he could apply the next coat. “I’ll be right down.”

He swore Babe held his breath until Eddie was back on the ground. “Ladders make you nervous?”

Babe shrugged. “I’m not a big fan of heights.”

Eddie couldn’t blame him, really. He wasn’t a big fan of them either, but all the specialty schools he went through in his military career sort of beat it out of him. 

“Thanks,” he said as he took the beer Babe held out. 

Heffron was a bit of a mystery. Eddie had listened to him and Spina talk about their lives back home, and it was obvious Babe was a kid who never planned on going past his familiar block. He always spoke of family and the place he grew-up with a sad fondness. For both Babe and Spina where they came from was such a part of their identity. He could get why Spina ended up here, some career courses took you all over. Babe was a bartender though, a damn fine one, and he could’ve worked anywhere by choice rather than circumstance. St. Boniface seemed a bit of a stretch for a boy so in love with his city, even if he had fallen for a backwoods half-Cajun doctor. Eddie never did get the full story of what brought him down here. He figured now was a good a time as any to ask. Even Snaf had muttered about it not being his place to say. That meant it was something more than just a move on a whim; Snaf kept everyone’s most important secrets buried locked inside him. Snaf was a good friend like that.

“So, Babe, how exactly did you end up here? I figured it’s got to be something important to bring two boys from South Philly all the way out here.”

Babe picked at a loose thread on his jeans. “I suppose I can’t leave it with boy meets boy, boy moves in with boy in Louisiana?”

Eddie shook his head. “Nope.”

“It’s a long and, honestly, a bit of a crazy and complex story, Eddie.”

“Babe, I’ve got at least an hour before that roof’s ready to be messed with again. Right now, I’ve got nothing but time.”

Babe gave him a calculating look. “Okay. I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”

Eddie frowned. Every last one of the boys, even Snaf, had been trying to get the whole story out of him. None of them had succeeded; of course none of them had directly asked still too full of awe and respect. Babe Heffron was the betting type. Eddie should’ve figured.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a devious little shit?”

Babe laughed. “Eh, Gene says it at least once a week. He loves me, really.”

Eddie took a pull of his beer. “Okay, Babe, a story for a story sounds fair. You’re up first.”

“It’s a _really_ long story.”

Eddie almost winced as he thought of his own. “Not as long as mine, I promise. Got about a decade on you.”

Babe whistled. “Well fuck,” he said. “I’ve only known Gene for a year and a half.”

Eddie choked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

They seemed like they had _years_ together, so in sync and full of silent communication. Eddie knew about deep bonds though, and how quickly they could form, but _damn_. 

“You seem like you’ve known each other longer than that,” he said.

“It was a hell of a year and a half,” Babe said. He leaned back on the porch stairs. “It all started because Spina didn’t want to work in Maryland—Baltimore if you’re wondering. He wanted to stay on the East Coast. Delaware wasn’t an option for legal reasons, neither was Boston.”

“What?”

A small smirk answered him. “You don’t wanna know.”

“I don’t?”

Baba shook his head. “You don’t. So anyways, Spina gets an interview at some nursing programs down in New Orleans, and we, being his boys, couldn’t let Raphael go off on his lonesome.”

“We?”

“Julian,” Babe said. He dropped his eyes to the ground and took a deep breath. “John Julian or Jules depending on who was speaking. He was a hell of a kid. Youngest of us; me, Spina, Bill, and Julian, that is. He was the sweetest kid; could drink us all under the table. That’s part of what happened the night I met Gene. We went on a pub crawl while Spina was back in the hotel starching his shirts or some shit.”

“That sounds like a fun night,” Eddie said.

Babe laughed. “Yeah, Spina’s always big on his clothes when he’s not in scrubs. Stylish little bastard when he’s got the time, that Spina. It was Mardi Gras when we visited and even though it was only months after Katrina there were still people down in the French Quarter. I got into a debate with some bartender about some stupid shit; I don’t even remember, he was hot and we had something to talk about. I didn’t realize Julian and the kids he’d met up with had left, so when I went to catch up on them, I tripped over my own damn feet, almost got run over by a float, and let my face meet concrete.”

“Sounds like a hell of a night.”

“Wasn’t even over by then,” Babe said. “Won myself a hospital visit after my attempt at street performance. Met Gene in the ER when he stitched up my head. He was volunteering down there to help with the flood of young, drunk out-of-towners.”

“Left an impression did you?”

Babe grinned. “He pretty much called me an idiot in the most medically professional way possible. I still got him to agree to a meet-up after he finished my stitches. It was purely for self-less reasons, of course.”

“Of course,” Eddie agreed.

“Spina needed a friend,” Babe said. He took a sip of his drink. “We kept in contact after I went back to Pennsport and then Spina came down here to St. Boniface to work for the summer, and I came with him.”

“And you both stayed.”

“Nah,” Babe said. “I still went back home. Julian died in December. That’s when I came here for good, after the funeral.” He looked around the yard. “Only place I wanted to be then.”

There was something in the way Babe had gone tense, a grief Eddie knew too damn well.

“You were there when he died.”

Babe looked at him in surprise. “You a mind reader or something?”

“Experience,” Eddie said. “So, can’t go back home or won’t go back?”

“Bit of both,” Babe admitted. “Besides, here’s home.” He nudged Eddie with his foot. “Your turn.”

“Yeah, it is,” Eddie said. He leaned back in the grass in a mimic of Babe. “You ready for this.”

“Hit me,” Babe said.

Eddie tilted his head back into the sun and took a deep breath. He could feel the condensation of his beer bottle drip onto his fingers and remembered the first time he learned what thirst could really mean as he got through his first hell week on no sleep and nothing but fumes. 

“My daddy got injured when I was young. I’m the eldest son, you see. That don’t really mean nothing in the grand scheme, but I felt a pressure on me to do _something_ to help my eldest sister and momma raise us kids. We’re a big family; ten of us kids in all.”

“Holy shit,” Babe said. He whistled. “Holy shit,” he repeated.

“I know, right? I’m used to a big house full of folks. It’s kind of nice here to only have a few of us.”

“A few he says,” Babe muttered. “Jesus and I thought I came from a big family.”

“Middle child?” Eddie guessed.

“Fuck you,” Babe said. He waved his hand. “Get on with the story, minstrel boy.”

“You don’t know how apt that is,” Eddie admitted. “I don’t know, I was never really a kid and we never really had money, but I always had music. Momma started us off young. It meant something; was always a pleasure, never a chore. It was that one outlet I really had. I started working odd jobs when I was ten, going to anyone who would hire me. I was sixteen when I dropped out and got my GED because that didn’t take as long as all the courses the school wanted to force on me. I liked school, don’t get me wrong, and I’m so proud of all my younger siblings who have graduated and gone off to college. I just had more important things to worry about than Homecoming.”

“I can fucking imagine.”

“So I packed my bags at sixteen and went all up and down the east coast. I stayed with my cousins and my kin and worked any and every job I could get my hands on.”

“That’s how you became an electrician and carpenter. You were like a Hillbilly Jesus.”

“With the beard and sandals to match,” Eddie agreed. “I signed up for the Marines the day I turned eighteen. I knew I could make more steady money there to send back home. I’ve never needed much for myself, and I always slept easier knowing momma had a buffer. Signed up for any specialty school the Marines would let me in and surprised myself with how well I did. The higher the hazard pay, the better. Someone thought I’d be good at teaching too. I was a sergeant at Lejeune when I met some fresh-faced newly minted second lieutenant from Massachusetts. Should've known the asshole was going to change my world.”

“So you had the years of experience on him?”

“Only a few, but yeah. Andy Haldane was this Red Sox loving, Patriots worshiping college kid from Massachusetts. He was a football jock in college who planned on a future teaching colonial history before he decided to join the Corps. I didn’t think he’d last a month when I first met him; proved me wrong there. He was one of the best damn officers I ever had the chance to serve under, and that’s not just my personal bias talking. His men adored him, as did his superiors.”

“Sounds like a hell of a guy. What happened?”

Eddie didn’t know the best way to describe it to someone who wasn’t there with them. It was a combination of things by the end, a perfect storm to end a relationship that never really got to live in the light.

“I was tired,” he said. “I’d been in the Corps for twelve, almost thirteen, years at that point. I’d seen multiple wars and too many of my boys and civilians dead. I wasn’t even able to get home for my daddy’s funeral we were so deeply embedded. That was one of those things that started to break me.”

“Fuck,” Babe muttered.

Eddie nodded. “Some asshole gunny started sniffing around us, trying to find some dirt to roadblock Andy’s rise up the ranks. Andy was a great officer. They needed him. He had all the makings of a career military man. I wanted out. I wanted to stop worrying about some asshole trying to get the both of us on a dishonorable discharge. I was tired of worrying about if Andy wouldn’t choose me over his career. So I made the choice.”

Babe stood up, hopped down the stairs, and dropped down next to him. He gripped Eddie’s shoulder. “You had to do what was best for you.”

“I know,” Eddie agreed. “I thought…I thought he’d come find me after he got out.” He laughed even though it wasn’t remotely funny. “I don’t know why. I left him, and he’s never owed me anything. Still went up to Lowell and played some gigs there, then headed up to Maine in case he went back to his college town. Never came across him, though I swear I saw him in Boston once. I didn’t want to track the guy down though; don’t know if I was more scared about it being him instead of some stranger.” He shrugged. “I’ve been on the road since that Tuesday in May four years ago. I suppose I’m just not willing to settle down without him. If nothing else, I still got hope.”

Babe was silent. His hand was an anchor though; one Eddie clung to so the memories wouldn’t pull him down. He had a sudden itch for his guitar and her strings, but the paint needed another coat, and he wasn’t ready to sing about any of it yet.

They both jumped as the backdoor slammed.

“Heffron bothering you, Gunny?” Snafu asked.

Eddie smiled and shook his head. “You can stand down, boy. He’s just listening to an old man talk.”

Snafu smirked. “Yeah, once he shuts up Heffron’s a pretty good listener.”

Babe rolled his eyes and muttered about backhanded compliments.

This place couldn’t quite be a home for Eddie, at least not yet. It was a hell of a good place to rest his body and soul though, and he was happy to linger in their hospitality just a little bit longer.


	4. Gene

Gene Roe hated when he and Edward were on opposite shifts. It meant they usually only got about twenty minutes together when one was coming in from work and the other leaving. Gene didn’t sleep much on the regular and he always slept easier with Edward at his side. He knew it was the same for his red-headed other half. They both had so many ghosts in their pasts that made them crave that comfort. They’d get through it like they did each time, but Gene didn’t have to be too happy about it. He had to work mornings at the clinic now with Spina back in class and Babe was on the extra late shifts at the bar to cover someone’s vacation. They only had another two weeks of it and Gene was already planning a long weekend away for them both at Paw-Paw’s place. Anna would be back in town by then, and off a week of her own rest.  
  
Gene gave up on his attempt to sleep and debated driving out to _Fitzwilliam’s_ just so he could catch a nap in one of the corners; it wouldn’t be the first time. He didn’t feel like getting dressed though, and while he had no problem shopping in his scrubs, he wasn’t about to show up at Edward’s workplace in his pajamas. He decided to settle for a cup of tea and a mess of _Fresh Prince of Bel-Air_ re-runs saved to the cable box. 

The rest of the house was silent as he shuffled down the three flights of stairs. Merl-Francis was still at work, and Ralph needed hours of rest to get through school and work, so his ass better be asleep. He didn’t know if Eddie was lost to the land of dreams, but no sound came from his side of the hall. 

Gene startled at the feel of breeze on his bare feet as he reached the bottom landing. The back door was open and he heard soft music coming from the yard. He shuffled out to the porch and squinted into the darkness until he found Eddie on the side of the house.

“A little night music?” Gene asked.

Eddie flinched. “Jesus Christ. You’re one silent little shit.” He shook himself. “Did Snaf learn that from you or was it the other way around?”

Gene honestly didn’t know the answer to that one. “Couldn’t say. I guess it’s just something we learned together.” He leaned against one of the porch’s posts. “I recognize that tune you were playing. _Silent Psalms_ right?”

Eddie nodded. “I saw that poster of Frank Roe in my room and the song’s been stuck in my head ever since.

Gene ducked his head. “Yeah, I figured that was a good place for another musician to bed down. Daddy stayed in there a time or two when he was younger and didn’t want to go further into the country. That song was always one of my favorites.”

Eddie looked almost in awe. “So Frank Roe was your dad?”

Gene shrugged. “He got my momma pregnant, sure. I was raised by my grandparents though. Daddy wasn’t much for a stable home life and my mother wasn’t capable of it. Neither one of them were all that good of taking care of themselves. Best thing they could do was let MawMaw and Paw-Paw bring me up. Daddy’s life was his music, he bled and breathed it. There wasn’t much room for anything else. It consumed him.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said.

“No need to be,” Gene said. “It’s a curse of some folks like that, so gifted with something that they live life in tunnel-vision. Frank loved me, I have no doubt of that, and he wanted what was best for me. I don’t hate the man. It’s nice to hear his music again.” He gestured to Eddie’s guitar. “Please, continue.”

“You sure?” Eddie asked.

Gene nodded. “Go on.”

**********

They tried to do a full inventory at least once a month at the Thibodaux-St. Boniface free clinic, but logistically speaking it wasn’t always possible. Gene’s crew knew what they always needed most so they never ran out of bandages, suture kits, gloves, masks, or gauze. It was always when they needed an extra box of trach ties to give a family or a specific type of gravity feed bag in case someone ran out and their cupboards and bank accounts were bare.

Folks out here didn’t have much by way of disposable income and Medicaid only covered a set amount, usually only thirty days supplies and no accounting for the months that had thirty-one. The families were supposed to pay the rest out of pocket, pray their private insurance covered it, or rely on the kindness and charity of their communities. When Gene took over the day-to-day running of the clinic, he made sure they had more than a few silent and wealthy backers. They always had enough to get extra supplies so Eva could slip some distilled water or suction catheters or whatever into someone’s bag.

Inventory was a time-consuming task though, and they still needed bodies to man the desk and phones and handle the always backlogged filing. He used his regular crew to do the inventory and got a few volunteers to handle the rest. Only problem was that today’s volunteers hadn’t bothered to show yet, so he was left to keep an ear out for the phones while he filled out the order forms.

“Sorry,” Edward said as he came bursting in through the door like a whirlwind. His hair was a mess as it often was when he ran his hands through it; a nervous habit he sometimes had and one Gene knew would always charm him.

Edward leaned over the desk and gave Gene a quick kiss, lips barely touching and chaste enough for public.

“Ma called,” he said. “She had to update me on the whole neighborhood. Shelton and Eddie are on their way. Edwin wanted to see them, so they had to make a detour.”

“Pennsport still standing?” Gene asked.

Edward nodded. “Doing okay; even up to Ma’s exacting standards. She’s making noise about coming down here for the holidays. She says she’s earned a warm vacation, but I think they need her more up there.”

It would be the first anniversary of John Julian’s death. Mrs. Heffron would surely need to be there for support, even if her son down here needed her more than he’d ever admit.

“Maybe she can visit before Thanksgiving or around New Year’s?” Gene avoided the word _Christmas_. Edward had a smile on his face, small though it was, and Gene wouldn’t see that gone because of his own words.

“Yeah, maybe,” Edward said.

“Bébé,” Renée called as she passed them. She kissed Edward’s cheek. “You have arrived. I can finally steal Eva away.”

“Anything for you, Ren,” he said. He winked at Gene over her shoulder. “Tell me where you want me.”

She tapped Edward’s chin. “Not in front of our Gene. He gets jealous when you say such things.”

“Oh, he’ll live,” Edward said. He linked his arm through hers. “Walk me to the front desk?”

“Always,” Renée said.

Gene laughed to himself as he went back to his work. He treasured these rare days when Edward stayed to help them. Somehow the clinic just felt lighter—probably from the loud laughter that always came with Edward Heffron in a good mood. It was precious to him, that sound of happiness.

“Daydreaming already?” Merl-Francis asked as he wandered into the office. He dropped into one of the empty chairs in a lazy sprawl. “I told you that Heffron is a bad influence.”

“You’re late,” Gene said.

“Fishing talk between Hillbilly and my brother. I got better manners than to interrupt such a thing.”

Gene snorted as he double-checked the columns on his spreadsheet. He pointedly ignored the rubber band that whizzed past his ear.

“Lola’s already grabbed Hillbilly to check the high storage shelves. Nice to finally have a body with some height around here.”

“Ray and Remy are over six feet,” Gene said.

“Yeah, but their help always comes at a cost I ain’t always willing to pay. Hillbilly’s all manners and will do just about anything if you ask nicely.”

“And do you ever ask nicely?”

Merl-Francis shrugged. “If the mood takes me. You want me on the desk or the phones?”

“I want you to leave Edward alone. Go get us some lunch, if you would.”

Merl-Francis sucked some air between his teeth. “I just got here.”

“And the sooner you leave, the faster you can come back to waste my paperclips by trying to get them in Edward’s hair.”

He grinned. “You know me so well, Gene-Baptiste.”

It was mutual and a point of pride between them. “Remember to get something—”

“Bland enough for that Irish boy you just _had_ to bring home.” He nodded. “I know; I will.”

Gene grinned at his oldest friend. “You good people, Merl-Francis.”

He held up a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Can’t let shit like that get out.”

**********

Inventory had wound down to the point of double checking the order forms. Ralph had joined them, finally free from his classes, and full of rapid fire talk with Edward as they placed bets on who would win the World Series. It was later afternoon, almost time to head home and leave the place in the capable hands of Anna, when the calm of the clinic broke.

“Oh, Christ, that’s some blood,” Edward said.

“Gene-Baptiste, we got a broken nose out here,” Merl-Francis yelled.

“It better not be Edward’s,” he yelled back. 

“We’re good,” Edward called from the break room. He tended to avoid blood as much as he could these days.

Gene was pleased to note that Merl-Francis and Eddie had formed a barrier between the action on the clinic floor and Edward in the break room. They did it without being asked, and Gene spared a quick thought of gratitude for the two of them before he focused on his work.

Renée had already started the exam by the time he got out of his office. He found a teenager in a football uniform, dirty cleats full of mud and grass making a mess of his floor, and blood down the kid’s face and on his jersey. There was an older man standing next to him, ball cap on his head and a whistle around his neck. Gene recognized the symbol on his polo shirt; they were from St. Cecilia.

Gene scanned over the chart Lola handled him.

“Practice went a little rough, Antoine?” he asked. 

“I hit the bleachers,” the kid mumbled.

“It was an impressive attempt at a catch,” the man said. “Andy Haldane; I’m the assistant coach.”

Gene noticed the bloody towel and melted ice pack by Antoine’s feet. There was a lot of blood, but not nearly as much as there could be if someone hadn’t taken proper care of the injury on the drive over.

“Not your first broken nose then?” he asked.

Coach Haldane shook his head. “Not Antoine’s either.” 

Gene glanced at Antoine who almost looked proud. He wondered what the kid’s file looked like at his primary care doctor’s office. They might’ve had a rival for Merl-Francis in Antoine. 

“His parent or guardian give the okay for treatment?” he asked Lola.

“He’s eighteen,” Coach Haldane said.

Gene laughed. “That don’t mean I won’t get some angry parent in here demanding to know why I messed up their baby boy’s face, even if a metal bench on a football field is to blame.”

“It’s okay, Doc,” Antoine said. “Do your worst.”

“We only do good work here,” Gene said. “Though I’d still be acting kindly to the lady that’s about to set your nose right again.”

“I’d listen to the man,” Coach Haldane said. He smiled at Gene and then his face dropped and went white like he’d just seen his own ghost.

“You okay there, Coach Haldane?” Gene didn’t need someone fainting on his floor when there was a perfectly good cot behind them. 

He nodded slowly then looked past Gene into the open door that led to their break room. Eddie was standing there with Merl-Francis, telling some story with wide hand gestures that had the boys laughing loud enough to be heard across the clinic. Merl-Francis glanced up at them and suddenly stood at attention. He tapped Eddie’s shoulder, murmured something low, and gestured in their direction.

“Is there a problem?” Gene asked.

“No,” Coach Haldane said. “No problem. It’s Eddie. We knew each other once.”

Eddie had walked over to them by then. His smile was tentative and he looked more subdued than Gene had ever seen them. All eyes were on them, even Renée who had finished setting Antoine’s nose, and Antoine who looked more concerned about his coach than his own face.

“Well hell, Andy,” Eddie said. He held his hand out. “Stranger places to meet, I guess.” He gave Merl-Francis a look over his shoulder. “Didn’t even know you were down in these parts of the country.”

“Just moved two months ago,” Haldane said. “I’m teaching history at a high school in St. Cecilia.”

“Finally putting those degrees to work.” He tilted his head in the direction of Antoine. “Coaching too? Football?”

“Yeah,” Haldane said. “I’m only an assistant, but it’s a great team. A ton of good kids.” He shook his head. “Look at you. Haven’t aged a day, Hillbilly.”

“Liar,” Eddie said.

“You working down here too?”

Eddie nodded. “A bit of this and that. I was passing through on my way to a gig when my car broke down. The redhead over there offered me a place to stay when he found out I knew Snaf. Doc there, you met him, has been kind enough to let me stay with them.” 

“So you’re still playing? That’s great. You were meant for it. How’s everyone in the family?”

Eddie shrugged and ducked his head. “You know us Jones folks, we always find a way.”

Renée had Antoine handled so Gene left them, and the two older men to their conversation, and walked over to the gossip corner of Edward, Ralph, and Merl-Francis. Merl-Francis looked too smug to be anything like innocent. 

“You knew your old captain was living in the area and didn’t think to tell Eddie,” Gene said.

Merl-Francis shrugged. “Wasn’t my place to say. They both knew we were all in contact, could of asked for the other’s number at any time. I don’t go about forcing reunions on people. Besides, the Gunny needed a place to rest his head and Ack-Ack just moved down here and started a new job. They needed time to adjust. I had my faith, Gene-Baptiste; I knew it’d work out in the end.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “What? Did you pay someone to put a spell on that poor kid to break his nose?”

“I would never,” Merl-Francis said. “Never know what you’re going to get back if you try something like that. I just know his uncle is all. He told me that Antoine there has broken something minor at least once a season since he was in grade school. I mentioned that this clinic happens to be closer than the ER and cheaper too. Never thought Ack-Ack would come in with the kid.”

“Why don’t I believe you,” Edward said.

Merl-Francis patted his shoulder. “’Cause you ain’t as dumb as you look, Heffron. Might've mentioned something about the clinic to Ack-Ack too.”

“Should someone tell them they’re still shaking hands?” Ralph asked. “It’s been at least two minutes too long.”

Gene looked at the two men still shaking hands in the middle of his clinic. Haldane hadn’t taken his eyes off Eddie’s face, focused on him like it was something rare and precious. Gene couldn’t see Eddie’s face, but his shoulders looked relaxed, his whole body looking like some strings had been cut. Gene never realized how tense the man had been even when he was lounging with a beer at the house. The man out there now looked comfortable, like he’d finally got what he really needed. They were still touching, fingers wrapped around each other’s wrists, not letting each other go.

“This might get awkward,” Ralph said. 

“Leave them alone,” Edward said. “There are bridges rebuilding right now.”’

“See, Heffron, you ain’t as dumb as you look,” Merl-Francis said

**********

Gene woke up when he heard the bedroom door click. He felt the space beside him, unsurprised to find it empty. He squinted and read the glowing red letters of the alarm clock. Three in the morning was earlier than usual for Edward and Merl-Francis’ chats, but seeing old friends and lovers reunited might have set something off in the both of them. Gene knew he should just roll over and go back to sleep since rest was a valuable commodity he often lacked. He had a late start tomorrow so he could spare a few hours, though Edward would frown about him not getting enough sleep. Something felt off in the dark of this morning. Gene knew to trust his instincts. He slipped out of bed, felt around for one of Edward’s sweatshirts, and started down the stairs.

He could smell the butter and batter that could only mean pancakes as he hit the second floor landing. All the lights were on in the kitchen and he could hear the low rumble of voices. The whole household was around the table by the time he finally got down there.

“Told you we’d wake him up,” Ralph said.

“It’s okay,” Gene said as he slid into the seat next to Edward. Edward leaned over and kissed the skin behind his ear as he placed a mug in Gene’s hands. He took a sip and smiled at the taste of hot chocolate.

Eddie pushed a full plate at him. “Dig in, Doc.”

“Thanks,” Gene said. “You doing okay?”

“I think I will be,” Eddie said. “Lots of talking left to do, shit to work through, but sometimes the hardest fucking part is just the _hello_. Still scared shitless to hear about a life without me; it might be selfish but there are just some things I don’t want to know about.”

“Like who he done did in your absence,” Merl-Francis said. He ducked as three balled up napkins were sent his way.

“Don’t make me cut you, boy,” Eddie said. He smiled though and patted the back of Merl-Francis’ head before giving it a light tap. “I still don’t know if I appreciate you not telling me he was down here of if I’m going to try and drown you out in that swamp.”

“You know it’s easier for everyone if you just love me like you ought,” Merl-Francis said. “Besides, Gene-Baptiste would have to avenge me, and you don’t want to see him pissed off. He could make Leyden shut up when he gets all righteous fury. He once talked down Colbert so hard the man sent him a card apologizing for his behavior.”

Gene laughed as he remembered that incident. Speirs got the card framed for him; told him it was something Colbert had never done before or since. Gene didn’t hold it over Colbert’s head, but the man ought to have apologized for the shit he pulled and what it caused on that base in Afghanistan that none of them ever spoke about.

Some things were better left buried. Though as he looked at the peace settled in Eddie’s eyes, he knew that there were a few, rare things that deserved to be dug up again. Even so, there were things that still had to be said even after a happy reunion.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready or in a place good enough to have him back in your life,” Gene said. “No one at this table is going to judge you, and you’ll always have a home here, even if you need to get away. That room is yours now.”

Eddie’s face softened. “Thanks, Doc,”

Gene nodded, picked up his fork, and dug into his food. 

“Sap,” Edward whispered into his ear.

Ralph made a face. “Trying to eat here, Babe. Save the flirting for a time with less pancakes. We already got enough sugar at this table.”

Everyone groaned even as Ralph demanded to know what was so wrong. Gene smiled as Eddie and Merl-Francis started a list of how wrong that was and Edward laughed so loud at their answers he had to cover his mouth. 

People with better sense would be asleep right now, but Gene wouldn’t trade moments like this for a full night of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love and appreciation to everyone who's still reading this 'verse. I'm so glad to share some if it with you again.


End file.
